


A Mother's Heart

by Juliko



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Dark, Drama, Gen, Heavy Angst, Parent-Child Relationship, Poverty, Prostitution, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 02:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9269039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juliko/pseuds/Juliko
Summary: Being a mother means sacrificing everything for your child, even if it means you can never see them again, and at the risk of your own life. Fantine’s love for Cosette will never waver. But she is human, and cannot endure for much longer, no matter how much she wants to.





	

None of this would have happened had the factory not fired her.

All she wanted was an honest job. Those were hard to come by, especially in these trying times. She was lucky to have the factory offer her a job in making black jewelry. Others were not so. But she could use the money to pay back the Thenardiers for raising her beloved daughter. Surely, she knew she had to keep up her end of the deal. It would probably be years before they would reunite, but Fantine told herself to endure. As long as she worked hard, Cosette would be back in her arms, and soon.

Unfortunately, life isn’t so simple.

It started off like any other day. Fantine walked the whole way to work, enduring the frigid winds that sent shivers throughout her body. Even breathing the winter air was enough to make her lungs burn, the taste far too much for her to bear. No matter. It was all for Cosette. She would endure any hardship, just like she promised herself. After all, she had to be strong. There was no giving up now.

But when she ambled towards the entrance of the factory, there stood the manager, scrutinizing Fantine with what appeared to be a scowl. Fantine shivered, this time not from cold, but with confusion. That was not a look she saw on the manager’s face. Something must be very wrong.

“Fantine. Stop right there,” The manager barked. The sudden loud voice made the blonde woman stop in her tracks, just as she was asked.

“Is...is something wrong?” Fantine asked, her irises shrinking some.

The manager crossed her arms, her scornful expression unchanging. “Fantine. You are no longer allowed to work here,” Her words were as sharp and cold as the winter air itself.

Fantine’s eyes shot open in alarm, and her irises shrunk into dots. It was like she had been punched in the stomach several times. Did this mean...she was fired? No longer allowed to work here? It had to be a dream. A very cruel dream, she told herself.

“What? But...but...why?” Confusion completely swallowed her up. This couldn’t be happening. “I’ve been working here for a year now!” She exclaimed, a hand flying to her chest in desperation. “You haven’t had any complaints!”

“You lied to us about your illegitimate daughter!” The manager shouted, pointing an unrestrained finger at Fantine, like she saw someone robbing a bank.

Fantine froze. She knows about Cosette? How? There were too many unanswered questions swirling in her mind for her to think straight. All she knew was that everything she worked so hard for was being stripped away, right before her eyes, like someone had yanked the carpet right out from under her. The only plausible explanation she could think of was that maybe one of the other workers became suspicious of the letters and money she sent and gathered information from there. She had hoped that no one would be able to find out. Now they knew.

“Our codes are very strictly enforced here, Fantine,” The manager told her, her voice and eyes completely devoid of any sympathy or pity. “If you have the nerve to lie to us about something like this, what else are you lying about? We will not tolerate liars or people of questionable character working under the mayor!”

Flames burned in Fantine’s veins. Why was the manager making her out to be some crook? Her fingers balled into a fist, her long fingernails biting the skin in her palm. This was not something Fantine was going to tolerate.

“Please, I wasn’t doing it to be bad! Honest!” Fantine’s voice trembled with every word she spoke. “I know you don’t accept single mothers! Believe me, I didn’t want to lie about her!”

She knew all too well the horrid state the economy was in. There were hardly any good jobs to go around. Worst of all, none of them allowed single mothers to work. It was common for citizens to believe that unwed mothers were people of questionable character. This was not true, for the most part, but society had strict rules for women, especially mothers. Husbands were to do the work and support the family, and wives stayed at home, cooking, cleaning, and raising the children. That was just the way things were back then.

“I need this job!” Fantine cried.

Having no pity for her former charge, the manager simply handed her a small bag. “Here, the mayor is giving you fifty francs. Leave this neighborhood at once!!”

Leave? No, she couldn’t leave. Not with the little money she had on her person. Where could she go? The future was getting darker and darker with every word the manager barked at her.

“Please don’t fire me!!” Fantine cried once more. “I have debts to pay! I need this job!!”

“I don’t want any more arguments!” The manager gripped Fantine’s arm, shoving her away from the entrance. “Leave right this instant! You are dismissed!” With that, she turned on her heel and marched away without looking back.

Fantine’s legs buckled, and she fell to her knees, her dress catching some gravel on the sidewalk she stood upon. She saw nothing. Everything turned blurry, and warm tears came flowing right out, singing her already cold cheeks. There was naught but darkness in her future.

“How am I to pay for Cosette now...?” Fantine asked herself aloud. God, she wished she had an answer. She wanted one, and she wanted one right now. But there was none. No job, therefore no money to send to the Thenardiers.

Returning to her house fared no better. Within a few short days, men came to take away most, if not all, her furniture. Not even they had any pity for the woman, even when it was clear that she couldn’t pay for the rent.

“Don’t even think of leavin’ town, lady!” One of the men barked, his harsh voice cold and devoid of kindness. “You still owe us money!”

“I’m very sorry. But I need to find a job first…”

Jobs weren’t easy to come by. Every day, Fantine searched and searched, walking long distances all throughout Montreuil-sur-Mer. She would walk so much that not only would her legs burn from so much walking, but the skin on her feet would peel right off, and her toes and soles had hard, white callouses, rougher than rock. Even her shoes would be dirty and unkempt from so much walking, and sharp rocks and twigs would pierce through the fabric, leaving distinct holes that exposed her to the elements.

Rejection was as commonplace as eating bread.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t hire people like you.”

“We’re not running a charity here! I’m not handing jobs out for free!”

“I’ve heard of you! There is no servant’s work available for a woman of questionable character.”

“A woman of your background...you’d be better off finding a husband and serving him.”

“Go away! We have no work for a woman like you.”

“Our situation is too precarious to hire anyone right now. I’m sorry.”

The days felt like years, and every day, every hour, every minute seemed to drag on forever. Not having any money wasn’t lifting her spirits, either. Well, she did manage to find the occasional coin that someone dropped every now and again, but even those were rare occasions. On one frigid evening, Fantine found herself stopping at a bakery. Her body shivering with cold, without a warm coat to protect her from the harsh winter winds, all she could do was stare at the bread displayed in the window.

Bread...warm, fresh, soft bread that could easily fill her stomach whole. Small loaves the size of an infant’s palm, long baguettes that were the same length as her arms, large loaves that could be shared among a family of six, soft and warm to the touch...Fantine shook her head. No. As much as she wanted to feed herself, and indeed, that day she did have some money she could use to buy at least a decent sized loaf...she simply walked away. The money she had was to be for Cosette and Cosette only, with some of it being used to pay for rent.

Cosette needed the money more than she did. Anything to support dearest Cosette.

The letters still came, like clockwork. But not even they were of any comfort to her.

_Winter is coming, and Cosette has outgrown all her clothes. Send ten francs for a warm winter dress. -- Thenardier._

Ten francs…

“How can I even get money like that?” She asked herself, her once pretty voice now growing more hoarse with every winter wind that blew right through her.

She had little possessions of her own anymore, and what she did have couldn’t possibly be sold for ten francs. Some old dresses, a brush, some needles and thread, underclothes, and her worn out shoes. All Fantine could do at that moment was sit against the wall and hold the letter to her face, with her legs folded against her.

Eventually, a solution did present itself to her. On yet another day of fruitless job searching, she had walked past a hair salon. Hair...Fantine let some strands of her own golden hair slide through her fingers. In a way, it still had a shimmering luster about it. Blonde hair was in itself a luxury, and she had managed to keep it clean so far. Maybe...would a hair salon even do that?

Fantine pressed her lips together. She had to do something. Cosette needed her.

With resolve in her heart, Fantine marched right through the door. A male barber set some scissors down on a counter as the bell on the door jingled. He stole a glance in her direction.

“Good evening, madam. How can I help you?” He greeted her with a courteous manner.

“Excuse me, Monsieur…” A lump formed in Fantine’s throat as she raised a fist to her chest. “Do you buy hair?”

“I do.”

“I...I would like to…” For a moment, said lump prevented the words from coming out. She made an effort to swallow it before blurting out, “I would like to sell my hair.”

The barber didn’t say anything at first. He just stared into Fantine’s pretty locks, marveling at the gold sheen. “I see. Come and sit down. Your hair is quite splendid.”

Without a word, Fantine sat down on the chair, waiting with bated breath. She kept herself quiet, not wanting to make a fuss about losing her hair. It would grow back, she kept reassuring herself. “Are you sure you want it all to be cut?”

“Yes, Monsieur. How much will you give me for it?” Fantine inquired in an oddly business-like tone that was unlike her.

“Hmmm...I think eight francs would do--”

“No!” Fantine barked. “I-I mean...may I receive ten francs for it instead?”

The barber didn’t protest. “Hmm. Alright, then. Ten francs it is.”

“Cut it all off, if you please.”

Fantine could feel every snip, every cut. With every movement of the scissors, her head felt lighter and lighter, like a weight had been pulled off of her body. As a child, people always said that her hair was pretty, such a beautiful blonde that others could only dream of having. But as of now, Fantine did not care for her hair. Ten francs was all she would need, and she didn’t feel like spending so much time on her hair anymore anyway.

Happily, the barber was true to his word and gave her ten francs for her hair. Overjoyed, the single mother rushed to the nearest clothing store and found a particularly nice wool dress for Cosette. How old would she be now? About seven or eight? Possibly eight. Cosette was only three when she was left to the Thenardiers, last Fantine remembered. She certainly didn’t want to give Cosette a dress that wouldn’t fit. She went in, bought the dress, and left.

It was as though Fantine had received gold. She hobbled out of the store clutching a paper bag like it was an infant, gazing at it with warm, loving eyes. Not even her navy blue bandana slipping a little bit could hide her weary jubilance.

“Now my child is no longer cold…” Fantine’s voice trembled, her teeth chattering with the winter air. “I’ve dressed her with my hair…”

A harsh wind suddenly undid the knot that held Fantine’s bandana together, blowing it just a few feet away. It was enough to expose her completely bald, hairless head for the entire public to see. It didn’t take long for onlookers to laugh at the ghastly presence.

“Hey, look! That woman’s completely bald!” One bearded man pointed an unsympathetic finger at her, laughing like he was drinking too much.

“How indecent!”

It was as though Fantine was a deformed freak standing before an audience of onlookers. Fantine hated herself in that moment. These strange people she didn’t know were laughing at her, like she was some kind of freak. But she couldn’t let their cruelty get to her. She reminded herself that there are worse things in life than being bald. After all, her hair would grow back in time. There were more important things to attend to. Retrieving her head scarf, Fantine wrapped it back around her head and walked away. The onlookers continued to laugh, jeer, and make snide comments about her hairless head.

Be strong, Fantine. She kept telling herself this every day. Be strong, and Cosette will be in your arms once more.

* * *

Eventually, her hair did grow back a little bit. It came out short, like a boy’s. Fantine knew such short hair wasn’t exactly considered fitting for a woman, but at this point, she didn’t care. Cosette was all that mattered. One day, a letter came for her. Fantine’s stomach turned into a knot. Without even looking at the letter, she was sure it would say that the Thenardiers needed money, probably more than what was previously asked. The amount always seemed to increase with every franc Fantine sent to them. 

She wasn’t prepared for the contents of this letter, however.

“What?!” Fantine’s blue irises dilated, and she could feel herself go pale, like she had seen a ghost. “Cosette is ill with military fever?! And they need forty francs for her medicine?!”

Her precious Cosette, ill with a strange disease. Just the thought of her child being sick made Fantine feel as though she herself were the one who was sick. The letter said that Cosette will die if she doesn’t receive medicine. As usual, money was the problem. Fantine walked the streets, her thinning eyebrows stuck in a permanent furrow. There was no way she could make forty francs in one day. She barely made 12 sous a day with her current work mending shirts.

Fortunately, or unfortunately if one were to see it from another perspective, a solution once again presented itself. But it wasn’t anything Fantine ever imagined or considered doing.

“Excuse me! You there, lovely mademoiselle in the hood!” A suave man in a suit and a top hat greeted her with a bright smile. Behind him was a small cart and  tables filled from corner to corner with strange tools, bottles, gauze, and other equipment she didn’t recognize. “Won’t you smile for me?”

Fantine could barely flash a grin. But the man was swayed enough to walk right in front of her. He came so close that their faces could almost touch. Not pleased with his invading her personal space, Fantine backed away two feet.

“My, what lovely teeth you have!” The man complimented her. Something about the way he said it made a shiver run down Fantine’s spine, and it wasn’t only because of the cold. “Do you wish to sell me your two upper front teeth? I’ll give you twenty francs for each one.”

Sell her teeth? It was as though Fantine had heard that Cosette had fallen off a cliff. How could she do that? Fantine clenched her mouth shut, lost in her thoughts. No, she couldn’t do this. “I’m sorry. I’ll have to decline your offer.”

Without another word, Fantine scampered away from the man. “Not my teeth…”

Her legs ached and burned as she hid behind a brick house, her lungs gasping for breath. Fantine had no idea what to do. Her hair would grow back, but her teeth wouldn’t. She knew this all too well. Even so, Cosette was ill, the letter said. Military fever. As far as Fantine knew, she didn’t know much about said disease. Epidemics had become common in the past few years, and nothing was ever said about military fever. Was it really so frightful?

Plucking up her courage, Fantine approached a passing woman. “Excuse me! Have you any knowledge of military fever?”

The woman’s mouth fell agape. “Oh my! That is a terrible disease, indeed! Children can easily die if they don’t receive the right medicine!”

It was as though lightning struck in a clear blue sky. The letter was right! Cosette could die! No, she couldn’t let that happen. Fantine had no thoughts to spare of her child dying. Perhaps...losing her two front teeth wouldn’t be so bad. The man did offer twenty francs for each tooth. The Thenardiers needed forty francs.

Perfect.

Cosette’s health was at stake. Nothing else mattered to Fantine when she returned to the man’s cart, telling him she changed her mind.

* * *

She awoke in a chair, her head throbbing, her mouth aching, and her gaze clouded, like she had been trapped in a fog. She swirled her tongue around in her mouth, brushing it over her teeth. There was a huge gap in the front of her mouth. Where her two front teeth should have been. Somehow, one way or another, Fantine mustered the strength to return to her empty house, with the money safely in her hands.

The coins resting in her palms looked like gold in her dry eyes. “Good. Now Cosette won’t die of that terrible fever…” Fantine whispered to no one in particular. She made a mental note to send the money first thing tomorrow morning, thankful she still managed to save some paper and ink for a letter.

All of a sudden, her hand made its way toward a small mirror. Fantine lifted it to her face. Looking right back at her was someone she didn’t recognize. A small, pale, shriveled up face with the concave dips of hollow cheeks that sunk inward, bulging, fading eyes an ugly shade of blue, unkempt hair, and a dirty rag over her head greeted her. Who was this person? Who was this weak, broken, ghastly woman staring her in the face? But then it hit Fantine. This strange, ugly person was her.

She screamed. “What have I become?!”

Without meaning to, the mirror slipped out of her hands, crashing as it hit the floor, glass shattering. Shards scattered about her feet. Fantine couldn’t believe what she saw. No longer was she the woman she used to be. How did she transform from a lovely woman to a shriveled up shell of what she once was? She knew everything she did was for Cosette, and she didn’t regret that, but still...seeing her new self was a shock to her. Had she wasted away that much? Was this...her unceremonious fall from grace?

No. That wasn’t the last of it.

Another letter came. This time, Fantine was fuming. “The Thenardiers need one hundred francs?!”

One hundred francs. A luxury. Obviously, Fantine knew this was impossible, even for her. There was no way she could possibly make that much. Once again, she walked the streets, desperate for employment.

“We have no jobs open as of right now. We’re sorry.”

“Get outta here, lady. I have a business to run, and I don’t hire women.”

“You expect us to hire someone as ghastly as you?”

“Our situation isn't good right now, so we’re firing, not hiring.”

Again, rejection was as commonplace as buying bread for middle class folks. Fantine fell to her knees, the snowflakes falling and dancing around her, mocking her with their pristine, untainted beauty. She could feel her heart breaking. How was she to procure one hundred francs?

There was one option. She didn’t think she would ever consider thinking about doing this, let alone doing it at all. But if Cosette’s upkeep needed one hundred francs, then…

Fantine undid the buttons on her dress. “I must sell the only thing I have left…!”

Everything after that was a blur in her mind. Men coming to her house to have their way with her, then giving her money. To say that Fantine hated herself for throwing away what little dignity and self-preservation she had left would be a colossal understatement. Fantine wanted to die. Not once did she ever think herself one to give herself to strange men, and for money! She was sure her family up above would never approve of her doing such a thing, when they had raised her better than that. She was sure she lost all of God’s respect for going this far.

Thinking of Cosette was her only solace. Sacrificing everything was easier on Fantine when she reminded herself that this was all for Cosette. She could see it now: her lovely daughter growing strong from the medicine, running towards her mother--Fantine--with arms outstretched, rosy cheeks, wearing a shining white dress, flowing with her golden locks, and smiling so radiant that she looked like a cherub, a baby angel. For Fantine, these thoughts and daydreams were enough to force her to spur onward. Hunger and pain from both the hands of the rough men who had their way with her didn’t seem so bad when Cosette was in her mind.

Cosette still stayed in her dreams and thoughts, even as she laid weak in a flimsy hospital bed. Even as she pleaded with Officer Javert, begging for mercy as to why she struck a man who pushed snow down her back. Even as Monseiur Madeleine promised her that he would bring Cosette back to her. Yes...Cosette would be in her arms. Alas, that day never came.

“Cosette...my dear Cosette…”

In a way, it did in her dreams. Cosette came to her bathed in golden light, extending a hand out for Fantine to take. Unable to resist the sweet embrace of her daughter, Fantine followed, even as she was met with only darkness. Fantine embraced the sweet caress of darkness without fear. There was only peace. Her cold and dark life finally came to an end when she closed her eyes forever, never to be open again.

There was no darkness awaiting her. Only light presented itself to her as thanks for having a mother’s heart. Cosette would be safe and well. Cosette would live. Fantine was free, and finally at peace.


End file.
